Randomosity and Cheesecake
by Miyako Suou
Summary: Harry Potter works at a grocery store, Draco must wear an apron and Lucius is a taxi driver. Random? Yes. A tad OOC, so you're warned. I was tired when I came up with stupid idea - I apologize in advance.
1. Canada

I am very sorry for submitting you to this, and I apologize for my idiocy. I was working on a different one which is morbidly depressing, but I lack inspiration for that one. So I am writing this to make fun of the other one. Am I mocking my own work? Yes, but as you will soon see, I am quite mad.

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter and characters belonging to J.K. Rowling are hers alone. **

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"Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find the apples?"

I turned around to find myself looking at a short, plump woman in a flower-print green dress and knee-high winter boots. She was staring at me with watery eyes, as if I held the answers to the mysteries of the universe. I stifled a sigh and pointedly looked behind her at the fruit and vegetable section of the store visible clearly over her shoulder.

"Right over there, ma'am, underneath the sign," I told her as patiently as I could.

"Oh, thank you," and she tottered off in the complete opposite direction.

I shook my head and didn't bother to correct her. If she needed help again, she could go and ask somebody else.

I know what you're thinking.

You're thinking this: Why the hell is Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world, working at a Muggle grocery store?

Well, I will tell you, because I have no one else to complain to about my unfortunate situation.

The answer is this: Draco Malfoy.

For some reason, the stupid, blond prat decided to pack up and leave his home without a word to anybody and move – to Canada. Why Canada? If he had to move, why couldn't he choose somewhere warm, like Florida or something? There could only be one possible explanation for this otherwise dismal misadventure into a world of snow, potholes and dangerous wildlife. Draco Malfoy had some evil plot or another, and he was moving to Canada to implement it on the firm logic that no one would be crazy enough to brave the unpredictable weather of Canada. Except, here I was, in the frigid north of western Canada, tailing him even now. Whatever Malfoy was up to, I was sure I could find out what it was and put a stop to it.

The only problem is that he seems to be doing absolutely nothing wrong. He hasn't wreaked any havoc or caused any chaos whatsoever, and I've been watching him carefully. No Muggle-baiting, no evil dark curse casting, no Death Eater associating – hell, he hasn't even gotten a minor traffic violation, and that's more than I can say for myself (damn police officer had a speed-trap up)!

So what has this villainous former-Death Eater been doing that is so devious that I was sent all the way over to this blasted frost-bitten country for?

Well, here is what I have discerned from careful observation:

1. He works at a café.

2. He has to wear a stupid apron, which, while quite hilarious, is hardly considered a crime.

3. He has a purple streak on his fringe. What in the name of Merlin is that about??

4. He appears to have made friends(?!) with some of his co-workers. They are, if it is even possible, even stranger than he is.

5. He likes raspberry cheesecake. This is irrelevant, but it seems important to him.

So, there you have it. That is all I have been able to find out so far, and I've been living in this bloody freezing town for the past two weeks. I must conclude that Malfoy is much smarter than I gave him credit for, and is concealing his treachery more thoroughly than I had first thought. I must dig deeper.

"Excuse me, do you sell snow shovels?"

The woman in the green dress was back.

Only in Canada would you find anybody willing to wear a dress in the middle of November. Canadians are completely insane. Why else would the woman be buying apples and a snow shovel?

"No, check next door," I responded, less enthusiastically than store policy required from its employees.

Who was going to report me? I was the manager, after all. At least the Auror Department got that much right. I even had one of those dratted photos displayed on the wall, proclaiming to the world who I was. Well, I guess that's not entirely true, it's telling the world who I'm pretending to be. The personage I'm borrowing is that of a man in his mid-30's. Who has a beard. Yes, a beard. Sure, it's a short beard, but it's still slightly disturbing to look in the mirror and see a _beard_ looking back at me.

No, I am not vain. Not like that utter prat, Malfoy, whose fault it is that I must put up with unpredictable weather, unexpected moose appearances and hockey fanatics.

Finally, closing time.

The store is dark and empty now, and I trudge out to my car across the snow-covered parking lot. I can see my breath on the air, and I zip up my winter jacket. My vehicle coughs to life, sputtering indignantly at me for forcing it to work in such freezing conditions. Grimly, I turn on the heating as high as it can go and reluctantly reach into the back seat for the ice scraper. If I didn't de-ice my windshield with it, I'd be here forever waiting for it all to thaw. This done, I climb back into the car to start out on the journey home, to the one bedroom apartment the Auror Department deigned to assign me to stay in. As I turn out of the parking lot, my back tires skid out across the ice. Even studded tires are no match against a Canadian winter, it appears.

I can't wait to get back to England. I'll never complain about the rain again.

Damn you, Draco Malfoy!

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There you have it. Feel free to comment on how stupid it is, although I am aware of the fact. Reinforcement can't hurt. Also, feel free to ask about Canada, which is where I live, in case you weren't aware. In fact, feel free to comment about anything, I'm dying for reviews!


	2. Cheesecake

I am very sorry for submitting you to this, and I apologize for my idiocy

Hello there again. Virtual cookies to whoever can guess who Vincent is and where he's from. No one will know Ri-ling; he's a figment of my imagination. A grumpy one. Somehow this became a bit more serious than I intended. Anyone have suggestions how to make it less so?

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and its characters. I'm only borrowing them for idiotic purposes of my own.**

I shoved my hair out of my face impatiently, trying to ignore the stare I was receiving from across the small café. There was a man there, sitting stiffly in his chair, gaze cutting into me like a knife. It was extremely disconcerting, and I wished he would just go away, or in the very least, stop looking at me as if I were some sort of complex puzzle. I worked at a café, for Merlin's sake, what was so perplexing about me that he felt the need to waste his time watching me? Although, there was something vaguely familiar about that narrowed, green gaze. It left me feeling as if I should know who he was, despite the fact the face was completely unknown to me.

I glared at him icily, hoping that he would get the point, but the blazing emerald eyes narrowed to slits and frowned right back. There was something strange about that defiant look; as if I would know it anywhere. I did know it, but from where remained a mystery.

Abruptly, a customer obstructed my view, blocking my line of sight with his bulky body. When he eventually moved on, clutching a tray of food in his pudgy hands, the enigmatic man was gone. But he would be back. He always came back. And somehow I knew, perhaps instinctively, that the man was a damn persistent bastard. Yes, he would return – maybe not today, or even tomorrow. But he would, all the same.

"Draco, you're off," a gloomy voice interrupted my silent monologue.

"Oh, thanks," I replied.

The man addressing me was a tad on the odd side. He always dressed in black, except for the long, tattered red cloak draped over his shoulders. The manager made him take it off when he was working, but otherwise, it was with him wherever he went. He also had long, shiny dark hair. At the moment, it was tied back in a rough queue, drawing it back from his pale features. But the most alarming features were his eyes – they were a deep, garnet red. I had long suspected the man of being a vampire in disguise, but dismissed the idea when he professed his great devotion to raspberry cheesecake. Upon trying it, I really had to agree – my tongue practically had an orgasm, and the moan that escaped my lips as the delightful taste filled my mouth was almost erotic.

"Bloody hell," I had managed. "I think this is my new favorite food."

"I think I could live off it if I had to," Vincent had responded, almost enthusiastically – well, for him any

way. His other favorite pastime was to mope.

I'm not sure why he's my friend, because most of the time we hang out is spent sitting in a sort of dreary silence. I guess there are worse hobbies, and all that moping gives me time to think about other things.

We sat out on the roof in spite of the frigid temperatures, using a warm cup of coffee to keep our hands from freezing and a plate of the ever-splendid cheesecake nestled in our laps. My breath rose in the air like mist, and I felt the air freeze in my throat. Canada was a bloody cold place to be sometimes.

"Hell in a hand-basket, it's cold," I chattered, noticing that the moisture from my own expelled breath was freezing on my hair, so they hung in front of me like bizarre icicles.

"Then why are you here?" griped another of my co-workers.

The man looked almost Asian. He had the same inky black hair and slanted eyes, but they were a strange sort of jade green colour instead of the usual black. That wasn't entirely right, because his features were too strong and his face too thin. But his name, it was Ri-ling, so I figured he was at least part Chinese.

"I had to get out of England," I replied. "Too many people know me there, and none of them like me. So, I just left it all behind to start over new."

Ri grumbled, "I meant to say, 'why are you outside' rather than 'why are you in Canada' but if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not hear you complain about the weather. I've already noticed that it's freezing."

"Oh, fine then. I'll complain to Vincent, you grumpy bastard," I sighed.

"Your break's over," Ri added huffily.

I stomped back to the stairs without replying. The man was just so irritating sometimes!

As I got back, my supervisor got annoyed at me for being late and threatened to dock my pay if I did it again. Glowering, I served the muggle customers their food. Thankfully, they took one look at the expression on my face and decided not to say anything about it. It was a good thing, I think. My wand was shoved into my apron pocket, and I'm not sure I could have resisted the urge to hex them all into oblivion if they had tried to chat me up anyway. That would immediately bring the Mounties running, or whatever the wizard equivalent was in this snow-covered country.

I was so preoccupied that I nearly missed who had come in the front door. No, it was not the strange green-eyed man, but someone I had hoped I had left behind in England along with the rest of them. In fact, I would even welcome the staring man rather than face the person who had entered the café. Hell, I would rather face down a dragon than talk to him.

My father seemed very out of place in the small, muggle-filled café, dressed to the nines, head held high and aloof. And here I was, decked out in a pair of faded denim jeans, a t-shirt and trainers, despite how cold it was out. Normal for Canada, I had been assured. Not to mention, I had on an apron.

I could hear his voice in my head: _Malfoys do NOT wear aprons._

I did the only thing I could possibly do at that moment, my mind so stunned that I could barely process any thoughts. I threw myself to the floor, ducking behind the counter and crawling so that I was out of sight. Ri-ling returned inside, cheeks still pink from being outside in the cold. He gave me an odd look as I crouched behind the counter, a look of what must have been panic on my face. Then he looked up, and his narrow almond-shaped eyes widened.

My father and I were unmistakably related. We both shared platinum blond hair, although my father's was starting to silver. We also had the same grey eyes, porcelain skin and thin frames. Ri-ling must have known who he was immediately, but he calmly approached the counter, all traces of shock gone.

"Can I help you?" he asked in the same dispassionate voice he used with everyone.

"I'm looking for my son. His name is Draco, and he looks somewhat like me, except 20 years younger. I've had sources tell me he lives and works in this area. Have you seen him?" I could hear my father's drawling voice, and could just picture the look of distaste on his features as he said this.

I winced.

"No, don't know any Brits, sorry," Ri didn't sound particularly apologetic. "Anything else?"

"No," my father answered shortly, but his tone filled in the blanks. _I wouldn't consume any of this filth if my life depended on it. _

Ri must have heard it all, because he said sharply, "Then remove yourself from our venue, _sir_, you are disrupting our customers."

He made the 'sir' sound as if he were addressing an especially aggravating insect, something that had likely never happened to my father. I nearly started laughing. My father was being spoken down to by a café employee who was wearing an apron. My father must be livid!

"Gladly," snarled my father, swishing out the door.

Then it sunk in: how had my father found me? No wizard here knew me, only muggles, and my father would never willingly associate with them.

I groaned as I got up off the floor, raising a few eyebrows at my unexpected appearance from the ground.

"Um, thanks," I mumbled to Ri.

Ri shrugged, "No problem. I wouldn't want to talk to him either."

I snorted, "Oh, you have no idea."

"Really," Ri rolled his eyes. "Maybe I should set my girlfriend on him."

"And what would that accomplish?" I asked dubiously.

"Well, my mother is somewhat like that man, and my girlfriend drives _her_ insane. So I figured it would work on him as well."

"Hm," I considered this. "The idea has merits. What's so terrifying about your girlfriend?"

"She's absolutely, one hundred percent crazy," Ri smirked.

"Oh, good," I nodded.

We went back to work, and I decided that perhaps Ri wasn't such a bad guy after all, even if he was grumpy. I just wished that people would leave me alone! Stupid father. I hoped he froze his aristocratic behind off, and got eaten by a rabid grizzly bear while he was at it. A herd of rampaging elk would not go amiss either.

I sighed again. Life was hell sometimes.

Still wishing for reviews. Even to say that it's horrible, because I like reviews. A lot. They're almost as good as raspberry cheesecake.

And in case anyone is wondering, Canada is actually like this, at least where I live.


	3. Hydroplaning Moose

Well, we're back to blatant idiocy, but at least it's amusing. I hope. Don't worry; we'll get into more character interaction next chapter. And all hell will break loose. Excellent.

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and its characters. I'm only borrowing them for idiotic purposes of my own.**

"Damn," the blond man cursed right before his right tire hit the pothole.

The entire car vibrated with the impact, and the man winced and glared at his steering wheel as if it was somehow to blame for the horrible road conditions. There were still patches of ice on the road, just waiting to ambush the unsuspecting driver and send them into a three hundred and sixty degree spin. So far it had not happened to him, but he'd seen an accident only this morning. He often heard horror stories of trucks upside down in ditches and semis jack-knifing across highways into on-coming traffic.

"Hey, Luke, there's a pick-up at the grocery store on 15th avenue," his radio buzzed in a fit of static.

"How many times," gritted out the blond man from behind clenched, perfectly straight, white teeth. "Must I tell him to call me 'Lucius'? Is it that hard to get right?"

Even as he muttered to himself about the indignity of being force-given an idiotic nickname, he turned onto 15th to pick up his next customer.

Yes, Lucius Malfoy, head of the distinguished Malfoy family had lowered himself to the inferior position of a taxi driver. Damn that rebellious son of his, running off to some blasted cold country in the middle of nowhere. He was here to drag him back, but so far the Canadian wizards in this small community had been entirely unhelpful. Not that they had been trying to be unhelpful, that was true. They'd even offered to help look for him, and Lucius being a complete stranger that they'd only just met! Canadians really were a strange lot, when it came right down to it. And so excessively polite! They apologized for EVERYTHING.

He pulled up in front of the grocery store and popped the boot so the customer could load in his groceries. The young woman climbed in and closed the door, thankfully not letting in too much of the freezing air. Just as he pulled away from the sidewalk, it started to snow – again. Which meant that when he got home, he would have to shovel his driveway – again. Why didn't he just bring a house-elf over from England with him?!

"Take me to 1354 10th avenue," the blond girl who had climbed in ordered.

Nobody ordered a _Malfoy_ what to do.

"Excuse me?" Lucius hissed. "Do you know who I am? How dare you presume to order me…"

"You're a cab driver," the girl raised an eyebrow. "What were you expecting? Oh look, a hydroplaning moose!"

Lucius spun around, half-expecting to actually see the spectacle the girl had described, but all that met his eyes was a police truck. Not a police-cruiser, an actual white pick-up with the RCMP insignia on the door. Apparently, once one was far enough north, this sort of thing was normal. Not the hydroplaning moose, the truck.

"Ha ha, you looked," the girl crowed triumphantly.

"I… you… but…" Lucius sputtered indignantly. "Girl!"

"Nicely spotted," she complimented absently before forming her fingers so that the ring and middle fingers touched her thumb and the pinkie and pointer fingers stuck up. She made this… thing make talking motions. The only thing more absurd than the actions were the words she made it speak.

"Of course, all llamas have sex. Except for baby ones."

Malfoy was speechless. His face twisted, but he was in too much shock to complete the instinctive sneer that came to his lips. What in the name of Merlin was the girl raving on about? This was utter…

"Bollocks," he managed to say eventually.

A car honked behind him, and he realized that while he had been sitting in shock, the light had turned green.

"Oh, British swear words!" the girl clapped her hands. "I know lots of those! Like tosser! Now that I think on it, it's quite possible that _you_ are a tosser. And, by extension, you therefore must be a wanker as well."

"_EXCUSE ME???_" Lucius gaped in horror at the nerve of this… cretin!

"You know, it's funny," the girl continued as if she hadn't heard him, "When you say 'bollocks' it sorta means bullshit, but when you say 'the dog's bollocks' it's like it's a good thing. You British types really don't make much sense, you know."

"_I_ don't make any sense?!" Lucius shook his head in sheer disbelief.

"You passed my stop," the girl told him, altogether too cheerfully. "Did you know you were turning a funny sort of purple colour? Just thought you ought to know."

"Malfoys do _NOT_ change colours," snarled Lucius.

"Oh, that's too bad," the girl appeared slightly put out. "I thought you might like the pink hair mascara I put in your hair. Guess not."

"WHAT!?" screamed Lucius.

"Old woman on crutches at 12 o' clock!" the girl shrieked, pointing, her eyes wide with terror.

Automatically, he slammed his foot on the brake and the car screeched to a halt, sliding a bit on the icy road. He hardly noticed what was happening around him. Adrenalin was pumping through his system and his heart was pounding in his ears. Meanwhile, the girl was calmly exiting the taxi as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Then Lucius realized a critical fact: there had been no lady, on crutches or otherwise.

"YOU!" he growled venomously.

"Look, a distraction!" she pointed again.

Lucius had almost turned before understanding that he'd been had – _again_.

He whirled around to let the girl have it, but she had already disappeared, the only evidence she had been there at all were the footprints in the fresh snow. He breathed in and counted to ten, because Malfoys definitely didn't lose their tempers in public. Then he remembered something else: the girl hadn't paid her fare. Never mind the Malfoy name, that girl made him mad! He cursed the girl all the way back to the grocery store, where his next customer was waiting for him to pick them up.

"Get in!" he snarled.

At a little one-bedroom apartment, the front door opened, and Yue stepped inside, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"Hey, I'm home!" she yelled into the interior.

A face appeared around the corner and smiled a rare smile at her. "Hey, love."

"Hi, Ri!" she grinned cheerfully. "Guess what just happened to me?"

Yes, Yue is Ri's girlfriend, the crazy one he was talking about last chapter. And, true to his word, she managed to drive Lucius up the wall. So, still fishing for reviews here, thank you to all of you who actually did. See you next chapter!


	4. Prince Charming?

I have so much fun messing around with characters' heads. Really, it's great. So, hopefully this is a good for now. Sorry if I cannot update faster, but I have three essays due in my classes and a Japanese mid-term. And I apologize for complaining about my mundane life, but that is the way it is people.

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and its characters. I'm only borrowing them for idiotic purposes of my own.**

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I was watching Draco Malfoy.

Again.

It seemed to be a continuing trend for me in days of late. Apart from going to work, which was becoming increasingly tedious, that was seemingly all I did. When I wasn't watching Draco, I got the cyborg-aurors to do so in my place. Techinically, they weren't, in fact, 'cyborgs', but they certainly looked like cyborgs to me. They moved like robots and were apparently, emotionless. So, therefore, that is what I had decided to call them. In actuality, they were the junior auror team sent to back me up, but they were incredibly annoying. They were disguised as security guards. When I had asked why _I_ couldn't be a security guard as well, they had given me a very half-hearted explanation that was rather vague on several key points. I had stopped trying to get a different job eventually, but I hated this one.

It was very bizarre to be treated just the same as everybody else by my school day rival, but it was strangely satisfying to hear 'thank you, have a nice day' from him when he bought my tea. I still had not recovered from the absurdity of seeing a _Malfoy_ of all people serving food in a muggle café.

All this watching was becoming entirely boring. Even the novelty of seeing Draco actually _working_ for a change had worn off. I had come to the conclusion that this was getting me nowhere, and that he had to come up with another plan to find out what Malfoy was up to.

If only I could use the Extendable Ears. What I really needed to do was find a place to hide so that the muggles wouldn't notice me.

That was when I was struck with a brilliant idea. All I had to do was go and hide up on the roof during the other man's break under my Invisibility Cloak and listen to their conversation! It was official: I was a genius. The thought that Hermione could have come up with a much better solution in less time invaded my mind momentarily, but I shoved it aside. Finally, the chance to find out once and for all what Malfoy was up to!

The downside to this plan was that it was _bloody cold_ out! It was snowing out again, and I hadn't brought a warm enough coat with me. Or gloves. I rubbed my hands together hoping to generate enough heat to keep my fingers from freezing off. I looked at my watch and discovered that I must have miscalculated what time his break was, because he should have been out here five minutes ago! I shook my head, causing the snow piling there to dislodge. I had forgotten about that, and it was probably a good thing Malfoy hadn't come up, or he would have noticed the oddity of a pile of snow developing in mid-air.

Damn, the snow was soaking into my trainers. And now my toes were starting to go numb. How did Canadians stand this?

After fifteen minutes had passed, I finally conceded defeat to the Canadian winter and returned to the warmth of the building. I was persistent, but getting hypothermia over this was just stupid. I knew Hermione could have come up with a better idea!

Apparently, Malfoy agreed with me. He and a few of his coworkers were sitting at stools lined up along the counter, eating cheesecake, enjoying their lunch break indoors. I scowled heavily before walking as quietly as I could up behind them. This was far easier than I had anticipated. So long as none of them walked into me, this would work out just fine. I drifted up behind them to listen, covering my mouth with my hand to muffle my breathing. It wouldn't do for muggles to hear disembodied huffing noises.

One of the muggles was saying to Malfoy and and another boy, "Yeah, it's horrible. My band just had a huge fight – something about irreconcilable differences – and we've basically broken up."

"That's… um… terrible," the second muggle appeared to be struggling to seem sympathetic when it was obvious that he could hardly care less.

Malfoy nodded, "That sounds truly buggered up, mate. Say, Vincent, what instrument do you play, anyway?"

"Bass," the boy said gloomily. I convinced my drummer to stay, but I'm out a lead guitar and a lead singer. Honestly? I'm glad they're gone. But the thing is, we have a gig on this weekend, and my manager says I need to fix the band before then or else."

"Well…" Malfoy shrugged. "If it's any help to you, I can play guitar fairly well."

"You can?" the muggle called Vincent (hadn't that been Crabbe's first name?) raised an eyebrow in surprise.

He wasn't the only one surprised. I was sure my jaw must have dropped at this last pronouncement. Since when did _Malfoy_ care about muggle music? But then, he _had_ put a streak of purple in his fringe, something I'm sure the Malfoy of old would never have done. What was going on with Malfoy? He was acting a bit like a nutter if you asked me. I picked my jaw up off the floor and continued listening.

"So can you help?" Vincent (who looks absolutely _nothing_ like Crabbe) was saying.

"Yeah, I'm sure. As long as we practice, I'm sure I could do it quite well. Come to my flat after work and we'll see what happens," Malfoy agreed.

They continued talking about bands, music and various instruments for a while, and I suppressed a sigh. Where were all the dastardly deeds I had been expecting out of the former Death-Eater? But I knew him, and I was absolutely sure he was up to something. And it had better well be something completely nefarious to merit coming all the way to the other, frost-bitten side of the world!

I was snapped out of my internal thoughts when Malfoy abruptly said, "Ah! My lunchbreak's almost over! I have to – "

What he was saying was cut off when he leaned back on his stool and lost his balance. His arms flailed wildly and amusingly as he teetered on the brink between triumph and defeat over gravity. Then, his stool tipped over backward, sending Malfoy plummeting towards the wet, dirty, linoleum floor.

Everyone tells me I have a hero complex. A 'saving people' thing that has gotten me in more than a spot of trouble more than once. I have tried arguing against this accusation over and over, with little success. And now, I must say that I am forced to agree with this statement. I could have just let Malfoy hit the ground. Sure, he would have been hurt and could possibly have cracked his head open, but the world would be safe from his devious plans – right? Unfortunately, instinct prevailed.

As soon as I saw the stool fall, I broke out of the trance I was in and leapt into action. I have very quick reflexes, having been through rigorous auror training, not to mention having impressive Quidditch skills. I should have just let him fall. Instead, I flung the Invisibility Cloak off myself and dove toward the floor. I caught Malfoy in my arms, landing painfully on my knees.

Malfoy blinked a few times and shook his head, looking dazed. He must have been expecting an impact and was entirely surprised by any sort of intervention. Then his eyes widened, and I saw a flash of recognition in his eyes before he frowned.

"Impossible…" he muttered.

Then he stared at me again, scrutinizing me carefully.

"What the hell?" Vincent had lost his normally calm (albeit gloomy) composure. "He just appeared out of mid-air! Who is this guy anyway?!"

The other muggle spoke up for the first time since their conversation had started earlier. "So, you've found yourself a Prince Charming, have you princess?"

_That_ got through to Malfoy.

"Shut up, Ri!" he snapped, pale cheeks tinting a maidenly pink. "And what do you mean he came out of mid-air…?"

"What's this?" Vincent held up my Invisibility Cloak with one hand.

"Malfoy's eyes bugged out. He knew what _that_ was, no doubt about it.

Crap, my identity was in peril of being discovered. I could just see him adding up the equation in his head. In something akin to panic, I dropped him on the floor, causing him to swear. I snatched the Cloak and bolted, throwing it over myself as soon as I was out the door. I didn't stop running until I was back at the grocery store. Once there, I locked myself in a lavatory and cursed loudly for a minute or two. He must at least suspect who I was if not be positively sure. Not only that, but his co-workers had all seen what had happened and in my panic I had forgotten to Obliviate them. Hopefully Malfoy would do it himself, but I had to go and do some damage-control, and soon!

Plus, I hadn't even had a chance to grab lunch.

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So, how was that? Let me know please! Even if it is to say it is completely unremarkable! Cause a girl's gotta know these things if she's to improve her writing. I adore reviews, even if this one's only had two so far. So yes. Please review. I refuse to beg though. I'm a bit like a Malfoy like that (grin).


	5. Snowball

Hello everyone who has bothered to read this far! I haven't died yet, just to let you know. In case anyone was worried I had collapsed from schoolwork. Just finished my Lit essay, only one more to go! Then it's Finals, but if I survive those, it's Christmas break! Yeah! We all love an excuse to ingest copious amounts of food!

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and its characters. I'm only borrowing them for idiotic purposes of my own.**

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Potter.

It was the only possible explanation for what happened at the café over lunch break. And by that, I mean a person appearing out of nowhere to catch me when I fell backwards off my stool. And while I'm grateful that my body sustained no damage, Potter showing up can be considered a very bad thing. Damn, I _knew_ I recognized those eyes! Why didn't the fool disguise them like everything else?

Now, how did I figure that it had to be Potter who caught me? No, it is NOT because I'm obsessed with the twit, because I'm not. Really. It's actually very simple; anyone except that prat Weasel could have deduced this.

1. Potter has an Invisibility Cloak. The man at the café also had a Cloak.

2. Potter has a hero-complex. Only he would have even bothered to catch me.

3. The mystery man has green eyes the exact same colour as Potter's.

Coincidence? I think not.

Ri interrupted my thoughts by elbowing me in the ribs.

"So, what the hell happened back there?" he asked mildly.

"I want to know as well," Vincent added gloomily from behind me. "That man appeared from nowhere. Then he disappeared again. And you obviously knew who he was."

"What if I told you it was magic?" I inquired nonchalantly, fully prepared to Obliviate both of them.

"Oh," Ri shrugged.

"Makes sense, I guess," Vincent frowned, then shook his head.

"Doesn't that alarm you?" I raised my eyebrows, hand frozen halfway to my wand.

"Not really," Ri shrugged again. "So… who was the bearded guy?"

"No one of significance," I snapped in response.

"Really?" he grinned in a very disturbing way.

"Of course not," I scowled at him. "He's just someone I knew from school. He's a bloody wanker, if that's what you want to know. We hated each other. And he doesn't normally have a beard."

"And this is somehow important?" Vincent rejoined the conversation.

"No," I growled. "Stupid Potter following me around…"

"Why is he following you, anyway?" Ri asked. "I mean, you're not that interesting, you know?"

"I am SO interesting!" I glared at him.

It wasn't as if I could tell them why Potter was following me. I wasn't entirely sure myself, but I had my suspicions. But there was no way I could say to them 'Oh, I used to be a Death Eater for Lord Voldemort.' For one, they would have no idea what that meant. Then, if I bothered to explain what exactly this entailed, they would know that I had been on the dark side of a struggle between good and evil. This wouldn't do, because the entire reason I left England was so I didn't have to put up with people who were prejudiced against me. Damn that blasted auror. No doubt he thought I was up to something bad. Well, I wasn't. So there.

Not that I was going to make this easy for him. He could just damn well figure it out for himself. Stupid bugger. If he wanted to know so badly, he could bloody well ask me instead of sneaking around under an Invisibility Cloak!

Well, Ri and Vincent left it alone when I said I had no idea. They knew I was lying, but decided to drop it. I was thankful for that. I would rather not look at those memories, thank you very much!

Even so, I had a hard time forgetting about the stupid auror.

***

He was following me again. I could tell somehow, as if I could feel those brilliant green eyes boring a hole in my back. So cliché, I know, but that's what it felt like! But every time I looked around, there was no one looking at me. I didn't even get the feeling that anyone had quickly glanced down when my eyes fell on them, so I knew it wasn't anyone I could see. So therefore, it had to be someone I couldn't see. And Potter had an invisibility cloak. If only I could catch him in the act…

I started out across the parking lot towards my apartment building, stuffing my hands in my pockets so they wouldn't go numb. I really needed gloves.

It had snowed yet again, but the lack of traffic so late at night had left the lot unblemished by any footprint but mine. How poetic. I stopped to look behind me and was surprised to discover that my footprints were not, in fact, the only ones there. A second set had halted about ten feet behind me and continued no further.

I had him now. I leaned down and scooped up a double handful of snow into my hands. The snow was bitingly cold, but I ignored it. Perfect. It was exactly the right texture, not too powdery so it fell apart and yet not so wet it formed an iceball instead. Not that I cared if I hit Potter with an iceball… I turned swiftly and whipped my snowball at the point in the air I figured Potter's head must be. I grinned when I heard a surprised yelp as the snow collided with something and exploded.

Potter yanked his cloak off, somewhat over-dramatically in my opinion, and glared at me with those eyes I remembered so well. I smirked, knowing he would be able to recognize it anywhere, just as I did his narrowed eyes. Even if they _were_ on the wrong face.

"Say, Potter," I raised one brow. "You know you look bloody awful in a beard, right? And I know who you are, so why are you even bothering with a disguise?"

He scowled, before waving his wand once, removing the unnecessary disguise. He looked almost exactly as I remembered him from the last time I saw him. Thin, and about two inches shorter than me with incredibly messy hair, that was Harry Potter. He may have looked small, but I knew he was a tough little bastard. If he wasn't, he would have died long ago.

"Malfoy," he snarled.

"Why are you following me?" I asked.

"You know why, ferret," he spat, likely still miffed about the snowball thing.

"No, I don't, actually," I shrugged. "I haven't been doing anything that would be considered Dark. But you wouldn't believe me now, would you Potter?"

"I'll be watching you," he warned with a venomous hiss that sounded suspiciously like parseltongue.

"If you're going to watch me, you might as well come see me here," I fished around in my pocket and found the card for the place we were playing. "It's on Saturday, starts at 7. Be there, and you'll see the extent of my devious plan."

"And what is that?" he asked.

"To corrupt the youth of Canada," I smiled again and left him there standing in the parking lot, examining the card I'd left him with.

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Still waiting for reviews. Does anyone bother to read this little blurb anyways? Hmmm…. I wonder…

**SEX!**

Did that get anyone's attention? Please review!


	6. A Chance Meeting

Well, exams are nearly upon us, so my next update may be a bit farther off. Until then, here's the next section of my rather idiotic attempt at humor.

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter and its characters. I'm only borrowing them for idiotic purposes of my own.**

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Lucius hated Friday nights more than almost anything. They were even worse than Monday mornings, a sentiment that would have gotten him lynched should he voice it aloud. The thing was, that on Friday nights, it seemed that a lot of the population of the small Canadian community went out partying and getting smashed. Of course, this meant a lot of work for him. Ferrying drunks home at two in the morning was not what he counted as a good time, especially if they vomited all over his back seat.

So, here he was at about eight in the evening, dreading the night to come when his already bad day got even worse. A vaguely familiar blond head climbed into the taxi and demanded him to take her to a downtown (if one could even call it downtown in such a small town) café. That is when he recognized her.

"You!" he hissed venomously, clutching the steering wheel with both hands.

"Do I know you?" she asked.

He let out a strangled howl of rage at this statement. How could she not remember who he was! It was only last week she nearly gave him a heart attack! This girl was infuriating!

"Are we going anytime soon?" she asked abruptly. "Someone is waiting for me."

Seeing little else he could do in this situation, he began driving, muttering all the while about unbearable idiot-girls and what he's liked to do to him.

"Sounds kinky," the girl had remarked absently at one point.

He had been expressing how very much he would have liked to dump her in a spike-filled pit and then pour lemon juice on her.

"Only if you're masochistic," he snarled.

"You seem the type," she declared, suddenly cheerful.

"I am NOT," he growled as he pulled up beside the café.

"Ri!" the girl cried, leaping out of the vehicle to run inside.

"Wait a minute you…! You didn't pay your fare!" he chased her inside. "Listen you horrible girl, you have to…"

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Lucius Malfoy," came a voice from behind him.

He nearly blanched when he realized who the man before him was. "Potter."

The man appeared triumphant, although why was not apparent. "I knew it! I just knew it. And I finally have the proof…"

"Is there something illegal about driving a taxi?" Lucius remarked dryly.

"What? Oh, no, of course not… you drive a taxi? What has the world come to!?"

"Just what are you implying, Potter?" he demanded.

"Aren't you here with your son to plot some horribly dark and dastardly deed and hope the Aurors don't notice because you're in Canada? Really, what is with people and fleeing to Canada? It's becoming a bit predictable," Potter grinned at him.

"What? Draco _is _here? Where is he? I demand you tell me, immediately!" he barked.

"You aren't here with him?" Potter seemed puzzled. "But… that means he hasn't been doing anything wrong… damn! I'll have to find out more tomorrow."

Lucius was getting frustrated now. "I asked where he was! Tell me!"

"Why should I tell you where he is?" Potter was smiling now, in a decidedly disturbing manner. "You would probably join him in doing whatever evil thing he's up to now. There is no way I'm helping you!"

"All I want to do is find him so I can drag him back to England and away from this bloody cold country!"

"Come off it, Canada isn't always cold," interrupted the girl coming out of the café. "Sometimes it gets hot, too!"

"Really," Lucius was skeptical.

"Contrary to popular belief, we do not have snow all year round," Yue informed him sternly, as if he should know that.

"I find it hard to believe," he answered. "And you owe me $8.45."

"We don't! Okay, so _once_ we got snow in May, but it was only one time, and the rest of the summer it gets warmer!" the girl dug a crumpled bill out of her wallet.

"How 'warm'?" Harry wondered, tucking his hands into his pockets and shivering.

"Normally about 25 degrees Celsius (77 Fahrenheit)," she answered.

Both Lucius and Potter snorted at this, then glared at eachother as they realized that they were actually agreeing on something. But then, we must forgive them, because it is hardly their fault that the mountainous region of Canada they were in hardly ever got warm.

The girl seemed insulted. "Well, once it got up to 30(86)!"

When Potter started snickering at her and she stomped off in a huff, Lucius felt a tiny bit better about what had happened last time he met her. Well, until he noticed the bill she'd given him was only five dollars and she still owed him more. Lots more, if you counted the money he'd lost last time.

"Damn her," he grumbled. Turning to Potter he snarled, "Now, tell me where my son is, or I'll set a polar bear on you!"

"Polar bears only live way up north," the other man raised an eyebrow.

"Potter," he hissed, "We _are_ way up north."

"Farther north," amended Potter.

Lucius let out another frustrated growl, "Talking to you is pointless, Potter! Just tell me where Draco is and we'll both be back in England and it won't matter if there are Polar Bears here or not."

"Why are we talking out here, anyway?" asked Harry. "I don't know about you, but I can't feel my fingers.

Lucius couldn't feel his fingers, or his toes either. Not that he'd admit it, because that would mean that his designer boots and leather gloves were not as good as the clunky boots that Potter had on.

"Fine," he snapped instead. "Let's go in."

As he entered, he swore he saw a boy who looked remarkably like Draco disappear into the back, but it couldn't possibly be him. No proper Malfoy would ever consent to wearing a _apron_ let alone serving Muggles food! Settling himself at a table, he waited for Potter to say something. Potter got a cup of tea, and took his time stirring it before finally looking up.

"Well?" Lucius prodded.

"It could be that I haven't seen him at all and I'm just messing around with you," Potter said slowly.

"You aren't," Lucius shook his head. He actually _wasn't_ sure if the other man knew or not, but if he let Potter think that he was certain, then it would be easier to sway him to reveal Draco's location.

"Fine," Potter sighed. "I do know where he is. Tomorrow night, there is a certain pace he will be, and if you go there, you will see him."

"What if he's not there?" Lucius asked.

"He will be," Potter grinned. "And I'll be there too, so even if he doesn't show, you can yell at me for getting it wrong."

"What if we don't see him?" Lucius persisted, wondering if this was one of the Auror's plots to capture him or trick him into doing something.

"Oh, we will," he promised, grin widening in a way that made Lucius even more suspicious.

"What if he manages to avoid us?"

"No way he'll pull it off," Harry was acting extremely cheerful all of a sudden.

"Fine, give me the location and time," he demanded.

He should have been more alarmed when Harry simply took out a pen and paper and scrawled something out quickly on it. He handed it to Lucius and then got up so leave. Before walking out though, he turned.

"Oh, Malfoy?"

"What?" Lucius glared back at the Auror.

"Don't wear that tomorrow night. Wear something… hmm. Sexy."

'WHAT?" before he could question Potter on his choice of words, the younger man had disappeared in a swirl of snow.

He had the distinct feeling he would regret this.

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Hope that was satisfactory. I've given up on trying to persuade people to review. It seems rather pointless when you consider how many people have listened to me so far. My success rates are appalling, really. Till next time… dewa mata! Miyako Suou.


	7. Degrading

Hello again. I feel very pleased that I'm able to update this so soon, but don't count on it happening anytime soon again, cause the Finals really _are_ upon us. I may not survive this particular battle, so if I don't update again, you may assume the worst.

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter and its characters. I'm only borrowing them for my own use.**

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The club was packed full of muggles and the heavy bass of the music was thumping in my ears when I arrived. Normally, I would not have been in a place like this, but really, anything to see Draco playing a guitar in a Muggle band. It was even better, cause even if he sucked, I'd brought my own entertainment.

"Potter?!"

Speaking of which, that sounded like him now.

I turned to see Lucius Malfoy gaping at me, so shocked that he'd lost all sense of dignity. I grinned at him, fighting back the laughter that was bubbling up in my stomach. Of course, the git hadn't bothered to listen to my advice, if he'd even realized I was serious. He was wearing a fitted Italian suit, and his hair, like Draco's, was absolutely impeccable – I guess it was a Malfoy thing.

Not that some people don't find suits attractive, but seriously. Here? Not very damn likely. But then, I had half expected him to turn up in full-out wizard robes, so I suppose this was an improvement of sorts.

"What are you wearing?" he actually sounded sort of faint. Maybe I turned him on? I nearly started laughing again at the thought. Why was I feeling so giddy? Must be the atmosphere, seeing as I was rather empathetic.

"Don't you know what jeans are?" I asked him, still smiling impishly up at him.

"I'd rather not, thank you," he sneered down at me, eying said garments.

I pouted at him, and he grimaced.

"Lead on, Potter. Take me to my son," he ordered imperiously, turning abruptly and in such a dramatic manner I half expected to see a cloak swish. "Are you coming?"

"Not yet, but I'm getting there," I was vaguely horrified at using such a suggestive line on a _Malfoy_ of all people.

Apparently, he thought so too, giving me a second disgusted look before pushing his way into the club. I followed, still smirking in an almost Malfoy-like fashion.

"Well?" Lucius demanded over the pounding of the music. "Where is he?"

"You'll see," I rubbed my hands in anticipation. "It's almost 7 now, right?"

"Yes, and so what?" he nodded. "When is he going to get here?"

"He's here," I grinned like an idiot, but that's what happens when you put me in a crowd of excited people, I suppose. "Just wait a few moments, will you?"

He would have made some sort of sarcastic reply if not for the distraction that arrived in the form of his only son appearing on the stage.

I couldn't help it. The look on his face was hilarious, as if he couldn't fully comprehend what he was seeing. I started laughing so hard my stomach ached and I couldn't breathe properly.

"Potter!!!" he finally screamed at me. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Why don't you ask him?" I asked cheerfully.

"I will!" he growled, grabbing my arm and dragging me further into the crowd trying to reach the stage.

"Malfoy, I'm not sure this is a good idea…" I reluctantly tried to warn him.

"Shut up, Potter!" he snarled.

I shrugged. I tried. It was hardly my fault if Lucius didn't know what a mosh pit was and got stuck in one because he wouldn't allow me to explain…

"Hey, we're Degrading, glad we could be here tonight," a man I recognized as one of Draco's coworkers was saying into the microphone. "This song is called "Mistaken Love."

They ripped immediately into the song, and before Lucius could get a word in edgewise, the crowd was moving and jumping. It twisted around us, pushing us together and pulling us apart. I went with it, knowing it was futile to resist. I simply jumped and watched to see what Draco was doing. I waited, trying to understand how he was 'corrupting the youth of Canada' as he'd put it. So far, all he'd done was play his Fender Stratocaster and add in some back-up vocals here and there. I got groped a few times, but it hardly mattered to me seeing as all my senses were on overload anyway. I might have accidentally groped a few people too, but I didn't even notice.

Suddenly, Draco's guitar seemed to scream as he went into a solo, forcing the instrument to wail in profound misery. Once he'd torn a final note out of the instrument, the girls in the front row began screaming even louder. I was unwillingly impressed at his apparent talent, but was soon distracted once more.

It seemed that whoever came up with the 'an action will cause an equal and opposite reaction' theory was talking about mosh pits. Someone near the back shoved the person in front of him, and everybody in front of him was shoved forward and the crowd was compacted like sardines in a can. What I was unprepared for was the 'reaction', as everybody immediately sprang back. I was hit by the recoil and was carried all the way out of the mosh pit altogether. I had completely lost Lucius Malfoy, but that was hardly my fault. I had _tried_ to warn him, right?

I decided it might be a good idea to find him again in case he tried to drag Draco off the stage, a dangerous endeavor in the middle of _this_ crowd. But that was taken care of for me when I suddenly saw something I never thought I would see, in _any_ lifetime.

"Let me go, you odious cretins! Put me down at once!"

Lucius Malfoy screamed and struggled, but it wasn't doing him a bit of good. In fact, it looked like the crowd was ignoring his words completely. That's right. Lucius Malfoy, proud pureblood, muggle-hater and dangerous ex-Death Eater was crowd-surfing. Never mind that it was against his own volition, this was _Lucius Malfoy_.

I _really_ couldn't help it this time. I laughed so hard I nearly pissed myself. I knew that the image of Malfoy's thrashing limbs and contorted face would remain with me until the end of my life. Oh, this would be one of my most cherished memories for sure.

Finally, I took pity on him and dragged him down from the air and out of the crowd. I had the feeling if I didn't he would begin throwing curses and blow our cover, and that was the only reason. Otherwise, I would have quite happily left him to get mauled to death by the masses of excited muggles.

"Potter!" he screamed hoarsely once he had enough breath to do so. "What the hell was that? Why didn't you warn me, you bastard!"

"I _tried_ to warn you, but you weren't listening," I told him calmly, fighting against the totally inappropriate urge to burst out laughing again at his now messy hair and flushed face.

"I can't get to Draco," he hissed angrily, staring at his son who was still up on the stage.

"Too dangerous," I agreed. "It would be a suicide mission if there ever was one."

"So what do you propose we do?" he spat at me.

I would have liked to say I didn't much care if we managed to get ahold of Draco, but I really wanted to know what his dastardly plan was.

So instead I said, "We'll wait until he finishes, then get him after he gets off the stage. All we need to do is get backstage without being noticed."

"And how do you propose we do that?" he snorted.

"Disillusionment charm," I rolled my eyes. "In this crowd? No one will even notice, I promise."

"Why should I trust _you_ Potter?" he snarled back at me. "Look at where it's gotten me so far!"

"Or you could stay here," I shrugged before waving my wand.

Shivering as the strange feeling spread down my body, I heard Lucius muttering angrily as he did the same as I had. Apparently he did trust me – well, sort of.

"Let's go, then," I said, grabbing onto where I figured his wrist would be, so he wouldn't lose me.

A string of uncomplimentary adjectives met my ears, so I shrugged again and towed him along behind me. It was a bit of a struggle, but we eventually found our way backstage, where we waited for Malfoy to emerge from the club.

"You are a damned nuisance, Potter," Malfoy sneered at me.

"Just doing my job," I grinned cheekily, even knowing he couldn't see me.

"Once this is over…" he said threateningly.

"We can all go back to England," I put in. "No more snow…"

"Or ice, or people humming that blasted 'Hockey Night in Canada' theme," Lucius was positively gleeful at the prospect. "No more measuring distances in hours it takes to drive somewhere in this bloody huge country or the fear of hitting large animals on the highway. And no more people saying 'Eh' at the end of every sentence when they realize I'm foreign!"

Funny, they hadn't done that to me. Said they reserved it for Americans or something like that. Oh well.

Lucius apparently had his heart set on making an entire speech on how glad he was to be leaving Canada when Draco finally arrived. As soon as I saw him, I dropped the Disillusionment charm, Lucius a moment behind me. And I nearly broke out laughing again at the look on Draco's face at seeing me _and_ his father waiting for him. Then, I realized that his muggle band-mates were all behind him. Only one word entered my head at that moment:

Crap.

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Okay, for all of you Americans out there, sorry about the jab. We really _do_ pretend to use 'eh' at the end of every sentence, just for you. Don't take it the wrong way; we really are quite fond of you all. Except for that time during the Cold War when we were worried you and Russia would begin chucking nukes over our heads. But that's over and done with, so really. Sorry. Oh crap, I'm doing the apology thing again… I swear, it's hardwired into us.

Oh, and thank you to hpforeva and CrimsonAkaneRyuu for reviewing, since I couldn't send them a proper review reply.


	8. Europe!

Still alive and kicking! Hello and Happy New Year everyone! This is the last chapter of this particular story, so I hope you enjoy it. I've got a few other fics, not all of which are as silly as this one, so check them out if you want. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, it makes me very happy!

**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter and its characters. I'm only borrowing them for my own use.**

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I think I must be what muggles seem to term 'trigger-happy', because as soon as Potter and my father appeared, I automatically whipped out my wand and let off a barrage of stunning spells. It must have been caused by the state of near-panic I entered as soon as I saw the two of them together. I mean, just one of the two alone is bad enough, but with two of them there at the same time, apparently working together not only defies all logic, but must be a sign of hell freezing over or some other world-ending event.

Luckily for both of them, but perhaps not for me, both yelled 'Protego!' fast enough to repel my attack. But then, what was I expecting? One an ex-Death Eater, the other the savior of the wizarding world, both could probably defend against attack in their sleep.

"Hey, Draco, so your magical friends are back?" Ri asked from behind me.

I froze. I had forgotten all about them, and now they had just seen the entire thing. I would have to Obliviate them for sure now; we had all just broken the Statute of Secrecy!

Right after that, my father commanded, "Draco! We're going back to England right this moment! I'm not staying here a second more than I have to!"

At the same time, Potter broke in with, "I've got it! You're using song lyrics to send subliminal messages to the Canadians to brainwash them into doing your evil bidding! I _knew_ you were up to something Malfoy!"

"Really?" Ri looked somewhat impressed by this pronouncement.

"Hey, it's Prince Charming!" Vincent said while pointing at Potter.

I groaned as Potter interjected a confused and alarmed-sounding, "What?"

"That's what I said," I informed him. "I mean, really. You're just a dork with glasses who pretends to be an even dorkier man with ugly facial hair."

"And what am I? Chopped liver?" My father, as usual, was annoyed at being ignored, even by muggles.

"You sure smell like it," a blond girl who had appeared backstage announced. "Hey Ri, what's taking so long?"

"What's going on here?" demanded a stern voice.

I turned to find our entire group surrounded by wizards wearing bright red robes, with their wands held at the ready. I suppose they were what counted as aurors in this frostbitten piece of Canada.

"They ambushed me!" I pointed at my father and Potter.

"Did they really?" asked the head auror-type wizard.

"More like we 'appeared suddenly'" Potter shrugged.

"Disillusionment charms?" asked another of the red-robed wizards.

"Yeah," he admitted, kicking at the ground.

The head wizard sighed, "In a muggle bar?"

"Yeah," Potter scratched his head. "But then Malfoy shot off at least five Stupefy jinxes! He nearly hit both of us with them!"

"Any muggles see?" he asked, taking out Quick-Quill notes that started immediately taking down information.

"Just us," provided Ri helpfully, indicating him and Vincent. "I mean, if you mean people who aren't like you, that's us."

"I see," the wizard waited for all the info to be processed, then nodded solemnly. "Okay guys, just don't do it again. And you two will have to have Secrecy spells put on you so you can't tell anyone about our existence. Standard procedure you know."

"What, you're not going to arrest us?" I asked in disbelief. "Or Obliviate them?"

"Nah," the head auror wizard made a waving motion with his hand. "What, with all the young wizards that get in duels up here, if we arrested _everybody_ around who got into a minor dispute we'd have no time on our hands for real problems. "We'll let you off with a warning for now."

It made no sense. But then, in Canada hardly anything ever made sense because they're all insane. It had to be from the extremely cold weather, or how big their country is, or how it is quite possible to be attacked by large wild animals in your own backyard. But whatever the reason, we weren't getting arrested, which I suppose is good. Apart from the alternative, which was facing my father and Potter with only a bunch of really strange bandmates as back-up. If you could call them that.

"Draco! Come here! We're getting the first international portkey we can out of here!" My father was persisting in annoying me.

"I can't!" I argued. "I've got things to do, and they don't involve returning to England for… well, a long time!"

"You evil bastard! You're trying to subvert the oblivious Canadian youth to do your bidding and take over the world!" Potter accused, pointing a finger at me.

"I am NOT," I objected, quite rightly, too. I really had NO idea what he was going on about at all. Subliminal messaging? ME? Like that would work.

"You're what now?" the head auror looked as confused as I felt.

"He's an ex-Death Eater and he's trying to take over Canada," Potter provided before I could explain that I was doing no such thing.

"You eat death?" asked Vincent gloomily. "Sounds… dark."

"Not anymore!" I snapped. "And no, we didn't actually _eat_ it, we just… well, that's not the point, all I did was fix a broken cabinet and disarm my headmaster. And annoy Potter, but it's just so… _easy_ that it's really impossible to resist. So there."

"Excuse me? You're Degrading, right?" interrupted a voice. "May I speak to your Manager?"

We didn't really even have one. Ri was just good at getting people to agree with him. If anyone was going to take over the world, it was _him_!

"Er," I replied, very cleverly in my opinion.

"I am!" a blond girl I didn't even know spoke up cheerfully.

"You!" my father hissed with such venom that I couldn't help but wonder what she'd done to him. "Again!"

"Yes, me. I am a bane to all blond taxi drivers, beware my wrath," the girl intoned dully, then turned back to the person who'd just spoken. "I'm Yue, and this is Degrading. What can we do for you?"

"I will crush you beneath my heel, you insolent little eyesore!" my father was going into a full-blown tantrum.

"Oh look! A talking squirrel!" Yue (whoever she was) indicated my father in astonishment. "I wonder if it likes sunflower seeds. Ri, give it some sunflower seeds."

Ri groaned, rolling his eyes. "Yue, you ate them all."

Then I remembered. Ri's girlfriend. And I must say, she was doing a fantastic job at annoying my father. He was turning a rarely seen shade of puce.

"I am _not a squirrel_," my father hissed through gritted teeth.

"Well," the man was trying to find an opening to speak. "I am an agent looking to sign a band to open for (band). They're about to go on a European tour and one of the other bands we had abruptly split up. We wanted to know if you're interested."

"Seriously?" I couldn't help asking. They liked us???

"Yes. I know it's short notice, but we need one right away. We're leaving next Friday and you're the best one we could find in only a couple of days."

I was dreaming. I was going to wake up tomorrow and find that I had never been in Canada at all and that all these strange happenings were just a product of my imagination.

"Deal!" agreed Yue, shaking his hand.

"We're going to Europe?" asked Vincent.

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "Just thing of all the new places there will be for you to mope!"

"No!" Potter protested angrily. "You have already damaged the youth of Canada! I will not allow you to corrupt any more innocent people!"

"Are Prince Charming and Mr. Squirrel coming with us?" asked Yue suddenly. "We could use them as roadies, you know."

"I am not a squirrel!" my father insisted, but no one was listening to him.

"Why are they calling me Prince Charming?" Potter had hopefully been sufficiently side-tracked from the whole 'Death Eater' thing.

"I'll take that as a yes," Yue made a note on a clipboard that I suspected she may have liberated from one of the actual band managers. "So it's decided! Me, Ri, Mopey, Blondie, Mr. Squirrel, Prince Charming and Drummer Boy are going to Europe!"

"Who's Drummer Boy?" asked Potter suddenly.

"We have a drummer, too, you know," I informed him. "He just never made an appearance because he is not only lacking in personality, he doesn't have a name, a face, or any other sort of interesting facts about him to make him memorable."

"He drums!" Vincent pointed out.

"Hence his name, 'drummer boy,'" Ri said. "Now let's get on with the story and not pay attention to the inadequacies of the author."

"The author?! Now I'm really confused!" Potter moaned, clutching what was no doubt about to become a migraine.

"Yes! Goodbye everybody! We're all of to Europe! Unless you feel like coming with us, no doubt this is the last time we'll see you!" Yue waved.

"Come with us, really," I urged. "Unless you want to stay in _Canada_."

And so ended our sojourn in Canada, icy dominion of hockey fans and frigid weather.

FIN

* * *

So, that was it. No more about how insanely cold it is here (Canada). We just had a spell of -30 degrees Celsius (about -20 Fahrenheit?) and a week of nearly -40 (the same in Fahrenheit) a while ago, so it really has been cold. And like 3 feet of snow, so yeah. It's been fun. So, if anyone wants to follow the group on their continuing insane rambling through Europe, just say so. If not, au revoir, it's been interesting!


End file.
